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<title>The Idol Of Mayhem by QueenOfNewOrleans22</title>
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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29138427">The Idol Of Mayhem</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenOfNewOrleans22/pseuds/QueenOfNewOrleans22'>QueenOfNewOrleans22</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Lords of Chaos (2018), Mayhem (Band)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Introspection, M/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 07:34:46</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>573</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29138427</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenOfNewOrleans22/pseuds/QueenOfNewOrleans22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>In Øystein's world, there were two types of people - him, and the rest of the world. </p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Euronymous | Øystein Aarseth/Dead | Per Yngve Ohlin</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>The Idol Of Mayhem</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>In Øystein's world, there were two types of people - him, and the rest of the world. </p><p>Which wasn't to say that Øystein thought he was superior to the rest of the world, except he did. He viewed himself as better than everybody else, as smarter and more talented, as a human beyond humans. Øystein would gladly allow himself to be called 'conceited' and 'selfish' because, in a way, he knew that he was, but he figured that he was allowed to be like that. Øystein was confident in himself and his abilities, in his guitars and in his looks, in that proud way that often made people hate him, but that was okay, too. </p><p>Øystein merely tolerated other people in the barest of levels. His mother, sweet as she was, often said that it was manipulative, the way that he used people, and, in some way, Øystein could agree with that. He didn't like Jørn - they didn't get along on any level besides casual, but Jørn could play bass reasonably well, and that would have to be enough. Jan was slightly less annoying, but he pushed Øystein and often acted like he knew better, which proved to be a tough task to regulate. </p><p>When it came to his family, Øystein loved them but he didn't <em>like </em>them. He could talk all day with his father and enjoy hugs from his mother and laugh with his sister and he would kill for them, he really would, but if they weren't bound by blood, arguably the most important of all binds, then he wouldn't give a single damn about them. </p><p>When it came to the time of Jan opening that package and pulling out that damned crucified mouse, Øystein had been torn between disgust and a strange kind of interest. He should've just told Jan to dump the tape without even taking a second look, but, instead, they'd listened to it and Øystein hadn't been able to stop himself from hearing that growl and that scream and thinking about how well that voice would do on his band. </p><p>At first glance, Øystein thought that Per would be just like the rest of humanity, and he didn't listen to that little voice at the back of his head that said otherwise. </p><p>But then it came time for their first show, and Per, dressed in leather and painted black and white, had stood there like an idol in front of his worshippers, blood dripping from the cuts on his arms, eyes wide and crazed. Øystein had felt like he'd been stupid by a trance and left to stand there, keeping up with the music but not much else. </p><p>Øystein should've been disgusted. He should've stared at Per like he was the freak that he was. But, instead, when Jan had retired to bed for the night with a weary Jørn trailing behind him, Per had looked at him, makeup streaked on his pallid face, his face blank but his eyes said so much. Per had been covered in blood, sticky and wet, but Øystein hadn't cared, because he'd been too busy worshipping the idol of Mayhem.</p><p>And then, by the end of that night, Øystein was ready to concede that there were two types of people in the world - him, and the rest of humanity, and that there was a being who stood in the shadows, bloodied and beautiful, whose mouth was open in an eternal scream. </p>
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